On the Dangers of Firing Arrows
by TheBigCat
Summary: "Oh, I will miss it if it breaks," he responds. "It will have served me well. But there's no point on dwelling in the past. You must grip the new bow with both hands and enjoy it until either you or it expire."


**On the Dangers of Firing Arrows**

by **TheBigCat**

**Spoilers for- all Season 8 episodes up to In the Forest of the Night**

* * *

><p>"It's a whole planet made out of diamond," the Doctor says, stepping out of the TARDIS. Clara follows, taking quick steps so she can keep up with his fast pace.<p>

He glances around, and frowns, eyebrows furrowing. "At least, it was when I saw it last."

Instead of the diamond planet promised, it's a vast jungle that stretches out in rows and rows of trees in front of them.

Clara giggles, and he glares at her. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"The giggling. It doesn't suit you. You humans, you may as well giggle your whole lives away."

Just to irritate him, she giggles again. It has the desired effect, and he scowls.

A scream splits the air of the jungle, and Clara stops instantly.

"_Maebh!_" she exclaims. She _knows _that scream. She turns to the Doctor. He nods at her, and they run towards the scream. It's hard going through the forest, but finally they catch up to little Maebh Arden who's backing away from a wolf. She's on the other side of a fence.

"Doctor," Clara attempts to climb over the fence. "Doctor. Give me a boost so I can pull her over the fence."

He doesn't move, looking at her with those stormy blue eyes.

"Doctor?"

"Clara," he says.

_What is he doing-why is the world spinning-what's happening-where am I?_

They're standing outside the vaults of the most impregnable bank of the universe. The Doctor looks at Psi. "Picture the thing you want most in the universe. Now, decide how badly you want it."

Clara's mind instantly flashes through memories and experiences. What _would _she want most in the universe? What's her reason to be here?

She taps the Doctor on his arm. "Well, what do you want most in the universe, then?"

He glances at her. "None of your business," he says abruptly, then turns back to filling Psi and Saibra in.

But she _knows, _now, what he wants. And it can't possibly be stored in this bank, no matter how big it is.

_Gallifrey._

So there's another reason. But what is it? Maybe he's manipulating everyone; playing a massive, three-dimensional chess game of his own. Where did that thought come from?

"-Clara," says the Doctor. "Clara!"  
>She turns halfway. "What?"<p>

Her eyes meet hers, and she blinks.

_It hurts-So lost-Where is he?-where is the Doctor?_

"Doctor?"

He hits a button on the console, and looks past the shining metal and blinking lights to her, where she's standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Do you ever have nightmares?"

She doesn't know why she's asking. It's not like he's... his _other self, _who was so easy to talk to. He's not going to respond.

He looks pensive for a moment, frowning. "Why do you ask?"

Before she can try to concoct an answer, he snaps his fingers. "_Oh._ You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off. "Silly little human brain, trying to make sense of the day."

She scowls at him. He takes long steps towards her, and scrutinizes her carefully. "Clara."

She nods. "That's my name, nice to see you know it." The old Lancashire sass is coming back in.

"Clara," he repeats, eyes not moving from her face.

"Yes?"

"Clara."

"Doctor, why are you-"

"Clara_, wake up._"

She wakes up.

For a moment, she's disoriented- _who am I-where am I-where's the Doctor-I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM- _but then she remembers.

She's on the Orient Express. Their last hurrah. She fell asleep after calling Danny, and now...

...now, she's craving adventure. 'Last Hurrah' isn't going to work for her. If it's going to be her last trip with the Doctor, she wants to go out with a big bang. He wouldn't have brought her here if it wasn't dangerous in some way.

The fact that she knows this says a lot about their relationship.

She dresses quickly, and hovers near the Doctor's door. "Doctor? Are you awake?"

Clara opens the door, and peers in. He's not there. But something else is.

She screams.

_What's happening-where is the Doctor-oh my stars-WHERE AM I?_

"What happened?" she moans, massaging her head.

"You tripped," the Doctor replies, not looking up from his copy of _Ulysses_. "And, frankly, I'm not surprised, with those shoes. What are you doing, attempting to compete with a giraffe?"

"It's _fashion_," she retorts, pulling herself up. "Something you wouldn't know about, with that outfit of yours."

He opens his mouth for a moment, looking as if he was about to argue, then closes it again. "Clara," he says eventually. "Am I a good man?"

She stands there in the TARDIS, which seems to have dimmed its lights suddenly.

"I..." she begins, and stops. Whatever she was about to say suddenly doesn't make any sense. '...don't know," she finishes quietly.

He gives her a sad look. "You need to wake up now."

"I'm already awake," she protests.

_It hurts-so alone-where is the Doctor-I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM._

"If the Doctor is still the Doctor," she says slowly and carefully, pronouncing each word although she's struggling not to cry. "he will have my back." She reaches a hand out slowly behind her, hoping, _praying _to the God she doesn't believe in, that's she's right.

She's not.

The hand that grabs hers is cold and hard and metal and it's _not right, _because the Doctor is meant to be right behind her. Maybe it's a clever plan. Maybe the hand that just touched her skin _and is now dragging her away _is remotely controlled by him.

The doll-like figure pulls her over to a bed, and pushes her down into it. She struggles, mentally hoping that the Doctor is there, and her eyelids droop.

She sleeps.

She wakes up.

She can feel a presence. It doesn't feel right. It feels plain _evil_.

She tries to ignore it. Tries to forget it's there.

Clara swings her feet out of bed, and places her weight fully on them.

And

something

grabs

her

ankle.

She's not much of a screamer, usually, but this time she does. The hand that's just grabbed her drags her under the bed. And she looks around, expecting some sort of monster, but it's just the Doctor, staring at her with an unfathomable look.

She opens her mouth, maybe to chide him about scaring the life out of her, but he silences her with a glare.

"_Listen,_" he hisses out.

Clara wonders what she should listen to, and then wonders why the Doctor was under her bed in the first place.

"Clara," he says.

"What?"

_Why is it so cold-why can't I feel anything-WHERE IS THE DOCTOR?_

"Can you teach me how to use a bow?" Clara asks Robin. He smiles at her, patting the large, ornately carved bow lying next to them.

"Of course, my lady," he says, and shows her how to grip it properly. "If you don't do it right," he says, "it might fly out of your hands and shatter your teeth."

"Isn't that dangerous?" she asks, frowning.

He laughs, a proper laugh, not fake and forced like he sometimes does. "It is! But that's half the fun."

"And what if the bow snaps?"

"Then we replace it. It's easy, is it not?"

It is. She manages to fire an arrow so it sticks, quivering, into a tree.

"Won't you miss the old bow, though?" Clara has no idea why it is so important, but it just is.

"Oh, I will miss it if it breaks," he responds. "It will have served me well. But there's no point on dwelling in the past. You must grip the new bow with both hands and enjoy it until either you or it expire."

It's good advice, she thinks.

And suddenly, she's holding onto the swinging chair tightly, frozen with fear next to Risby. Afraid that the creatures-in-the-walls might get her.

"We have to do something," she says softly. "And quickly."

There's no response. She suddenly notices that Risby's disappeared.

"You're playing games with me!" she yells to the things-in-the-walls. "What do you want?"

Flashes of color swirl up the wallpaper and form themselves into letters. YOU MUST WAKE UP.

"I'm already awake!" she protests.

The letters form themselves into a word. NO.

"Who are you?" she tries.

WAKE UP, say the walls.

_Where is the Doctor-he should be here by now-can't breathe-can't think-where is he?_

"What happened?" she moans, massaging her head.

"You tripped," the Doctor replies, not looking up from his copy of _Ulysses_. "And, frankly, I'm not surprised, with those shoes. What are you doing, attempting to compete with a giraffe?"

"It's _fashion_," she retorts, pulling herself up. "Something you wouldn't know about, with that outfit of yours."

He opens his mouth for a moment, looking as if he was about to argue, then closes it again. "Clara," he says eventually. "Am I a good man?"

She stands there in the TARDIS, which seems to have dimmed its lights suddenly.

"I..." she began, and stopped.

"Clara?" he asks.

"No..." she furrows her brow. "I've done this before. I know I have."

He gives her a genuine smile now. It's odd, how his face transforms when he smiles. "You have, have you?"

"Yes... yes, I have. And I want to wake up now."

"Well," he circles around to her, gripping her by the shoulders. "It seems that you are already awake!"

_It's not so dark anymore-I think the Doctor's coming-I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM_

She's floating in empty blackness. Nothing surrounds her.

"Eggs are not bombs," the Doctor's voice says. She tries to crane her neck, to see where it's coming from. "They don't usually destroy their nests. I know that you will always make the right decision."

"Doctor, where are you?" she calls.

"All around you," he responds. "Like I've always been."

Before she can react to that, there are two Doctors standing in front of her. They both stare at her with the same eyes. They're identical in every way.

"Clara," they say together.

She tries to back away, forgetting that she's in empty space. She's suddenly _scared _for some reason.

"I've woken up," she says. "Why am I still dreaming?"

The Doctor on the left chuckles. "Who says you're dreaming?"

She doesn't have an answer to that.

"Why am I here?" she asks instead.

"To choose," the Doctor on the right says.

She looks between them. Yes, they are identical, but the one on the left seems more relaxed, somehow. Maybe it's the tilt of his shoulders. He's not tense at all.

"I need to choose," Clara says.

"Yes." Again, the word is spoken by both of them.  
>It's an impossible choice. Two identical men, and she has to pick one.<p>

But she can do it.

After all, she's the Impossible Girl.

She looks at the one on the right. He's surveying her closely, making her feel like she's an interesting specimen in the lab. He catches her eye, and gives a short smile.

He's dangerous. Unpredictable. _Bad _for her.

The other one, on the left, he has a warmer smile, and a twinkle in his eye. Almost like he's saying, _come explore the universe with me! _in a friendly way, instead of dragging her into his box without warning.

That one's _safe_.

"Choose," they both repeat.

She's stuck.

Doesn't know what to do.

The words of Robin Hood come back to her.

"_Isn't that dangerous?"_

"_It is! But that's half the fun." _

She chooses.

_It's safe now-I think-the Doctor's here-it's fine-I know who I am_

"What happened?" she moans, massaging her head.

"You tripped," the Doctor replies, not looking up from his copy of _Ulysses_. "And, frankly, I'm not surprised, with those shoes. What are you doing, attempting to compete with a giraffe?"

"It's _fashion_," she retorts, pulling herself up. "Something you wouldn't know about, with that outfit of yours."

He opens his mouth for a moment, looking as if he was about to argue, then closes it again. "Clara," he says eventually. "Am I a good man?"

She stands there in the TARDIS, which seems to have dimmed its lights suddenly.

"Maybe," she tells him. And he seems to accept that.

It's good enough for both of them.


End file.
